


Reasons to Fight

by zeldadestry



Category: Firefly
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-15
Updated: 2007-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-10 10:27:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldadestry/pseuds/zeldadestry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Be one of those men. Don't ever even think of surrendering like you did today."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reasons to Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the_pretty_fits Mal/Simon ficathon.  
> My prompt was: An AU where Simon is the one they took and operated on and River was the one who rescued him

"You - could - have - KILLED - him!" River shouted, pushing Mal in the chest to emphasize each word.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with him you can't fix," Mal said sternly, catching her hands in his own and holding them away from his body, pointedly ignoring the splattered blood on her surgery scrubs.

"Let go of me." Her hands wriggled in his own.

"You gonna behave?"

She lowered her eyes. "Yes." As soon as he let go, she reared back and slapped him full across the face. He went to grab her but she raised her knee in the direction of his crotch and he backed off.

"You ever slap me again," he warned, from a safe distance away, "and it'll be the last move you make."

"Don't threaten me. You ever get my brother in danger again and we'll be digging a grave for you."

"You ain't scary, little girl.

"Get humped, Mal. You need me. I'm the only decent medic you'll ever get to work on this gou shi boat."

"Don't you talk bad about Serenity!" He got back in her face. He might not be willing to fight her to defend his own honor, but he sure as hell wasn't gonna let her badmouth his baby. "Right now, she's the only home you got. If she ain't good enough for you, then get your ass off of her."

"You take one step closer to me and I'll take your gorram ass off. I can't fight like Simon, but I've learned enough from him to shut up your big mouth."

"Stop it." They both turned towards the infirmary. Simon was slumped against the door frame, one hand at his belly, another at his shoulder, both directly over the bandages that covered where he'd been shot. "Stop fighting."

"I thought you doped him up?" Mal accused River.

"I did," she replied, brow furrowing at this further proof of the medical marvel that was Simon Tam. She hurried to his side. "How are you feeling?"

"I heard you screaming. I was worried. I wanted to help."

River directed a fierce glare at Mal and then returned her attention to her brother. "It's alright. We were just having an argument. Come with me," she said, leading him back into the infirmary. "You need to stay still for a little while longer. I'm going to give you some more medicine."

"No. No more medicine. It makes my head hurt. Gives me bad dreams."

River put down the syringe. "Will you stay still?"

"Will you stay with me?"

"Yes."

"Don't leave me."

"Never." Simon got back up on the table, and River rechecked his vitals. Mal moved closer and watched from the doorway. There had been a lot of blood. He'd not thought of Simon as invincible, exactly, but he'd thought of him as safer than the rest of them, protected by his awesome abilities. A bullet in the right place would bring anyone down, though, and it had been damn close. River finished her medical duties and settled into the chair beside her brother. His hand reached out for hers, and she accepted it, gently held on. "Go away, Mal," she muttered. "You make me nervous."

"Guilty conscience," Simon said. It scared Mal, what he didn't see in Simon's eyes. Where was the relief, the joy, at being alive, whole? Was it only the drugs that made him seem so dazed and sad?

"I ain't guilty about nothin," Mal insisted before leaving. When they'd first returned to Serenity, carrying the unconscious Simon, the only thing that had kept River from taking Mal's balls off had been her knowledge that she had to operate immediately. Once her brother was out of danger, she'd come right after him. Wasn't fair of her to blame him. Simon had wanted to join them on the job. It'd been his eager idea and he'd hounded River constantly until she gave in. Mal wandered Serenity's corridors, waiting for his weariness to grow, biding his time until he was tired enough to sleep. He talked strategy for unloading the merchandise they'd secured that day with Zoe, he played horseshoes with Jayne, he listened as a beaming Kaylee demonstrated the adjustments she'd made to the engine to improve their speed. All the time there was a question in the back of his mind, nagging at him. He kept flashing back to the moment just before Simon was shot, a moment in which he did nothing to defend himself, didn't move, except to turn slightly towards his attacker, giving the man a clear view of his exposed torso, his palms and forearms facing forward, as though in subtle surrender. He came across River again on his way to the galley; she scurried past him without a word, without a glance, but he could see she was in distress. Her eyes were wet. He turned round to watch her go, hurry away from him, her arms wrapped around her shoulders like she was cold. "Hey!" he called out. "Your brother didn't die on you, did he?"

"Hun dan. How dare you make a joke like that?" she hissed back, without turning around.

He almost followed her, almost. But there wasn't no point in trying to comfort River Tam. She'd hit ya soon as she'd thank ya.

Zoe and Wash were at the table, sharing a drink, sitting close together and laughing softly. Wash had his hands in Zoe's hair, she had her hands against his chest. Anyone who saw them and didn't know would have thought they'd just fallen in love, were still in the first sweet drunkenness of it. "Give me a moment, lovebirds," he said, flopping down in the chair kitty-corner from Zoe.

"Let's pretend we can't hear him," Wash said.

"You two want privacy, you best stay in your bunk."

"Because you've never bothered us in there before."

"How can I help you, Cap'n?" Zoe replied, getting up and standing behind her husband so that she faced Mal. She rested one of her hands on Wash's shoulder, and he sent up his own to cover it.

Mal swung his legs up unto the tabletop. "What do you think happened today?"

"Not sure I follow. We had a near scrape but came out of it ok. We got cargo that's worth a lot of coin if we can sell it."

"But what about Simon?"

"He's going to recover, ain't he?"

"He's alright."

"Permission to speak frankly, sir?" Zoe said, while Wash rolled his eyes at her soldier's conduct.

"Go ahead."

"It was a mistake to bring him; it was dangerous, and not just for him, for us, too. We can't count on him. He nearly got himself killed today and he could've got us killed trying to defend him."

"I know. But it don't make no sense. He took down everyone in his path 'fore that last man. He's a fighter like none of us ever seen before, he fights like nobody but a Reaver could, and then he suddenly stops?"

"I can't figure it any better than you, but he looked like he wanted to give up."

"Look," Wash said. "You're both trying to understand it logically, from your own point of view. But Simon doesn't think like we do. Whatever they did to him, and let's not forget that we still don't know what the extent of it was, but whatever they did to him, he's living in a different world than the rest of us."

Mal rubbed his forehead, gave a shrug. He wanted to believe that, believe that it hadn't been intentional on Simon's part, that it was just a glitch. But he'd been in the war long enough, been in command long enough, to have learned to read what was in his soldier's eyes. He knew fear when he saw it, and he knew how to stoke courage in response. But he could also recognize despair, and say what he would, do what he could, he had never found the cure for it. Try as he might, he knew no way to bring hope to those who had dispensed with it. He did not know that there was anything he could offer Simon. He was on a fool's mission, but he'd see it through to its end. He left Zoe and Wash to their sweet talk.

Eventually he made his way back down to the infirmary, only to find it empty. He went on to their quarters, found Simon sitting up in bed, the marbles used to consult the I Ching spread in front of him on his blanket. He gave a nod when Mal knocked, but did not raise his head when he entered. His shirt was off, and though the lights in the room were dim, Mal could see spots of blood on his bandages. "You alright? Any pain?"

Simon shook his head. "Too much for her. Too much for me. It's easier this way. Even a little bit of distance, just enough so we can't see each other. Somehow it doesn't hurt as much."

He'd noticed Simon doing this before. Never talked about physical pain, illness, weakness. He always brought it right into the heart, as though that was the source of all suffering. "You're both hurting?"

Simon dropped a blue marble into his palm and spiraled it round with the tip of his finger. "She was in love, you know. She was going to be married."

"You serious?" He found that a little doubtful. She was pretty enough, sure, but mighty ill-tempered. Didn't seem to have any interest in finding a body to share her bed. Of course, he'd only ever known her like this, completely dedicated to her brother, to protecting him, bringing him back to health. He had no idea who she'd been before. It had probably been another life entirely. He and Zoe had talked about it once. They was someone goin into the war, someone else comin out. "She never said nothin about it."

"He was a neurologist. Brilliant. He would have come with her, if she'd asked, he didn't want to ever be apart from her. That's what he used to say to her, when they would lie together in bed. He would say, River, bao bei, I wish for you to always be by my side. He would be on this ship, right now, if she had told him her plan. He used to buy her lychee fruit by the bushel, peel them all for her, and serve them to her cupped in his hands. He loved to watch her eat. When juice spilled onto her lips, he drank. When she disappeared they found him and tried to discover what he knew. He knew nothing, but they tore him up just the same."

"They killed him?"

"Tortured him until he died."

"She know?"

Simon picked up a red marble, lay it in his palm and then lifted one hand up as the other floated down, as though he were balancing a set of scales. "She knows, but she pretends she doesn't. Sometimes she wishes he were here, because if anyone could take all the pieces and put them back together, make my memories mine again and smooth away all that doesn't belong, if anyone could do it, he could have. Sometimes she thinks she wants him here to help me, and sometimes she just wishes she had him back to lie beside her, and with either wish she cries."

Mal did not know what to do with his own hands. "Look," he began, dropping them on his hips, "there ain't no easy way to ask this, especially since you got a way of not always answering questions straight." He replayed the day's scene again in his mind: Simon standing there, completely still as that man shot at him, once, twice, and then his fall to the ground. He could feel Simon's eyes on him, knew Simon saw what he saw. "What were you playin at? You really wishin you could die?" Simon would not answer, and Mal walked over to him, lifted his chin to force the issue, to see what he was thinking. "Cause don't you wish that. You think there's anything the Alliance would like more than to have you dead and their tracks all covered up? Don't you want to fight em? Don't you want to make em pay for what they did to you? Me and the crew have risked much to help you, our own skin, and this is how you're gonna repay us, by giving up?"

"I know better now. My assumption was wrong. It was for her."

Mal dropped his hand down to Simon's uninjured shoulder. Simon's body felt strong underneath his touch, and he couldn't help squeezing for a moment against the tension of his muscles. "She loves you. It would kill her if anything happened to you. You let yourself get killed, and you're signing her execution papers, you understand that?"

"Has anyone ever loved you as much as my sister loves me? Have you ever loved anyone as much?"

He asked questions no one else would dare. Perhaps he asked because he already knew the answers. Perhaps he thought it would help them to admit to themselves all the secrets they kept buried. "It ain't a competition."

"I thought if I was - gone - it would help her, she could go back to her life, how it was. But now I know better. When she saw me, saw my blood freed from my body, I thought there would be relief, but there was none. I know now. Even if she wanted to go home, she couldn't. She'll always be a criminal. They'll always chase after her, they'll torture her if they catch her, they'll kill her, do you know that?" He spoke louder, his body shaking, and Mal calmly stroked his arm, tried to settle him. "The Alliance will kill her and they'll make sure it's on the Cortex so that everyone knows, so that everyone heeds the warning. She gave her life up for me. I'm all she has now and I'm worthless. No good. Broken."

"Now that ain't true." He kept his voice steady, commanding.

"What's not true?" Now Simon willingly raised his eyes to meet Mal's for the first time in the conversation and Mal was the one who had to look away. He was a strong man, but he couldn't stomach a sorrow that raw. "River's life isn't ruined? I'm not worthless?"

He steeled himself, stood steady on his feet and brought his eyes back to Simon's. "You was worth an army today before you lost your gorram mind and decided to see what it felt like to get shot. Took out more of em soldiers than me, Zoe and Jayne combined."

"But you can't count on me. I'm dangerous."

"Hell, Simon, I wouldn't want someone on my boat who wasn't."

Simon had watched closely, looking for any flinch, any hint of a lie. He did seem somewhat comforted by what Mal had said, but the larger issue still haunted him. "Even when I die, she won't ever be free."

"Now you listen to me, you may have been a genius on Osiris, but you ain't but a babe in the woods once you left the core planets. I been out here a long time, and I been fighting a long time, and I can tell you somethin about freedom. Your sister is free, because she chose to live this life. She chose to save you, don't you understand?" He was going to sit down next to him, but Simon anticipated the move and rose to face Mal instead. The marbles rolled off the bed and clattered to the floor, swirling orbs of blue and green and red. "You understand?"

"Yes." Simon raised a cool hand to the back of Mal's neck and gently drew him down so their faces were level. His cheek was against Mal's, his lips at his ear when he whispered, "I was in love, before they took me, before they cut me open."

He'd wondered much about Simon, about who he was before, what his life had been like. Mal's eyes closed. There was tenderness in Simon's touch, sweet need in his voice, and he could not find the meanness a man would need to pull away. "You were?"

"They write ballads about men like him. Men like you. Live in the 'verse without fear of the 'verse. Not because you're blind or innocent or a fool. Because you know you'll fight. Doesn't matter the odds, doesn't matter the danger."

Mal swallowed, let one of his hands rest on Simon's warm chest, just above his heart. "Be one of those men. Don't ever even think of surrendering like you did today."

"We all think of it, don't we?" Simon's lips brushed against the edge of Mal's jaw. "I know you have, Mal, and I know what you think, but it's not shameful. You contemplate it, and then you put it away and you go on."

"You shouldn't go wandering in my head. It ain't a nice place." As he spoke, Simon drew his parted lips across Mal's cheek.

"I like it." And now Simon's lips came to rest at the corner of Mal's. "I like what you imagine you'll do to my body, what I'll do to yours."

"I ain't sly," Mal countered, but he let his hand curve around the back of Simon's head, his fingers buried in thick hair.

"I am." The tip of Simon's tongue licked across the curve between Mal's lips. Slow, slow, that tongue traveling just inside the edge of Mal's mouth, tracing and tasting, tantalizing tickle, and Mal tightened his hold, opened his mouth and pressed his tongue deep into Simon's mouth. Their arms wrapped around each other, bringing their bodies flush together.

A man might give up on all reasons to live but one, this one, and if it was inspiration to fight, then Mal would give himself wholly to it.


End file.
